


follower

by qar



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qar/pseuds/qar
Summary: There are ghosts in the White House.Disclaimer:If any of the creators mention they are uncomfortable with these types of fics I will take this down.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 22
Kudos: 320





	follower

**Author's Note:**

> tw for implied character death

There are ghosts in the White House. 

There always have been, to be fair; L'manburg was built upon layers and layers of history. Tubbo'd left the crater. Let dead men lie.

They never rested for long, though. Everyone had seen a familiar yellow sweater out the corner of their eye, or a pair of ram horns around the corner. It was enough to spook everyone away from the battleground for the longest time, especially after their youngest had broken down sobbing because "It was Wilbur, I swear, but he seemed so-" 

Dead? Alive? Real? Fake? How would you classify a _ghost_?

Rebuilding always began, though, and L'manburg spread like moss over the slowly healing cracks of the server. L'mantree stood strong, and the bodies buried beneath it still wandered around; Tubbo couldn't count the times he'd walked into his own office to find a blue sweater in his seat, or a face staring at him through a window. It was, frankly, terrifying; but the ex-president didn't seem to cause any harm other than the occasional spook.

There were ghosts in the White House, and sometimes Tubbo'd invite them in. Ghostbur had slowly warmed up to them after Tommy'd approached him, and the man was strangely sweet and docile. He'd wander the streets of their little town and help out where he could, but he'd usually stick by Tommy.

Schlatt had moved on, Tubbo realises one day with a jerk. Ghostbur looks at him, concerned, as he gasps out a breath, hands over his chest. "Is something wrong?" the spectre asks, hands hovering above his shoulders. They're the opposite of comforting.

"Is- Is Schlatt gone?" He begs. "Is Schlatt- is he?"

Ghostbur's face falls, and Tubbo's heart lifts. "He left," the gray man tells him. "There was nothing left for him."

L'manburg is better off than it's ever been; a bustling little area, filled with winding paths and neatly stacked houses. Niki bakes every day, and every day she offers Tubbo a pastry for free. Every day, he pulls out whatever currency or trinket he's willing to exchange and they make a game of it. Tubbo's eye catches on Tommy's music disc, one day, when Niki hands him a jar of yeast and tells him that it's old and aged and apparently super good and all for him. Mellohi sits alone in it's spot of honor, tucked into the corner of Tubbo's enderchest. Tubbo tucks the jar next to it.

Tommy's not doing well after the loss of his family, Tubbo knows, and he _shouldn't_ blame the younger for his struggle to cope. It's in a fit of rage that he opens up his enderchest and throws Mellohi to the ground. The disc hits the ground and he sobs. He's so tired of this. He's worked so hard for this fucking nation, and Tommy's willing to throw it away for _arson_.

Mellohi doesn't break. Tubbo lets out a final, gasping sob as he picks it up and throws it into his enderchest. Niki's jar is still there, tucked fully into the corner without Mellohi pushing it out. He's used the yeast twice.

Losing Mellohi isn't a loss. The discs have never been anything to Tubbo except a sign of sentimentality, and if anything he's glad he doesn't have that burden on his chest anymore. It doesn't stop him from feeling guilty as Tommy screams himself raw when Dream threatens to break it.

And as much as Tubbo hates to say it, as much as it breaks his heart, losing Tommy isn't a loss either.

He was nothing but a liability, he tells himself the night Tommy's exiled. Nothing but a liability, he tells himself, as his eyes catch on the disc buried at the bottom of his enderchest. Nothing but a liability, he tells himself, when Ghostbur wanders into L'manburg when they're setting up the Christmas tree, eyes wide, and holds up a polaroid camera with shaking hands. "Tommy's homesick, I think," he says. "He's all alone at Logsted."

He's nothing but a liability.

There's a ghost in the White House.

His name was Wilbur, and he's standing in front of Tubbo, looking as frail and tired as ever. His chest is still oozing blood sluggishly. He doesn't seem as enthusiastic as he's been his entire after-life.

"Tommy's missing," he reports. "I was supposed to take care of him, and he's gone." His unusually soft voice trembles.

"That was Dream's responsiblity," Tubbo says, and tries to stop his voice from shaking. "Dismissed. Niki'll give you a pastry if you ask."

There's a ghost in the White House. It isn't the gray man who'd just left.

Tubbo heads downstairs, cautiously, towards the soft repetitive thud that's coming from downstairs. No one should be in the White House- Quackity, Karl and Fundy were out, and the others were at the town square. Still, he rests his hand on the hilt of his blade as he approaches.

"Who are you?" He calls. There's no reply. The thudding continues.

It's coming from behind a wall. Tubbo breaks it, carefully, digging through two layers of polished andesite before realising what he's been hearing.

It's incredibly cold around the anchor, and it's humming with energy. The compass in the boy's hand in spinning, honed in on it's location. It's at it's location.

"Hi, Tommy," Tubbo whispers to the blue boy. He's holding a compass engraved with the words _'Your Tubbo'_. He's at the anchor. His skin is pale, tinted unnaturally. He looks at peace, if not the same way as Ghostbur; more sad.

"I didn't know where else to go," His best friend whispers back. "It- it brought me here. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Tubbo says, voice cracking and tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He reaches for Tommy's hands. They're cool, and the texture of mist. "You can stay."

**Author's Note:**

> school is REALLY kickin my ass rn but i typed this out because i was bored and decided to post it haha
> 
> leave kudos, comment and bookmark if you enjoyed, it means a ton :)
> 
> stay safe, everybody, come join my server if you want to see my dumbass naming processes (and also meet other mcyt fanfiction writers!! if anyone from the server is reading this. you are so cool.) <3
> 
> link (copy paste into a browser): https://discord.gg/w9CwSK26mm


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